


This is a promise from an owl, and owls do not lie

by starstruckapplepie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Baby Bokuto, Backstory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruckapplepie/pseuds/starstruckapplepie
Summary: He thinks about it, his golden eyes wide open. Then he settles “So I will be like the little happy owl, Mommy, he was always cheerful!”.





	This is a promise from an owl, and owls do not lie

The alarm clock is ringing mercilessly.

A hand rises from the sheets, reaching for the nightstand and finally managing, after one, two, three times, to turn off that drilling _beep-beep_ ; the same hand Koutarou later rubs his face with.

Bokuto sits up, scratching his head, unruly hair falling on his forehead. His eyes briefly roam the room, barely lit up by the early-morning light seeping from the window shutters.

Before sleeping back in and making the alarm’s work totally pointless, he settles for standing up, slapping vigorously his face to properly wake up.

He disentangles from the messy sheets, heading to the bathroom: when he flicks the switch on, the light suddenly floods the room, snatching from the darkness his well-built, only-boxers-on figure, shaped by years and years of volleyball. A ray of that light reaches the bedroom, cast on the stuffed owl plushie sitting on the top shelf in his place of honor.

Koutarou splashes his face with water, grabbing then the gel jar, ready for his second morning struggle: the first one was against the alarm clock, now it is all about styling his hair in that way which has become typical of him.

As he does, Bokuto studies his grey and black locks: it is almost strange seeing them reach down so close to his eyes. After all, he ponders as the runs his gel-coated fingers through his hair, it’s been years since he has started styling it in this way which, according to manager Kaori, makes him look like an owl.

The statement always brings a smile to his face: owls have always been his favourite, ever since he can remember.

 

_≪_ _Mommy, the little owl story! The little owl!_ _≫_

_A young boy in his blue pyjamas fidgets and jumps impatiently around, while his mother smiles and brings out a colourful book from the little shelf on the other side of the room. Koutarou climbs on his bed and gets under the covers, clutching a small owl plushie to himself. Mommy nestles by his side, her gentle hand stroking his hair, which covers his forehead in unruly locks. She is telling him his favourite story._

_Koutarou likes to run: staying still makes him feel itchy in the back of his knees, but it is nice being hugged by Mommy and looking at the pictures of the baby owl. He can’t read the black shapes above the pictures, but Mommy’s voice is there for him, explaining them to her son._

_Yes, this is how Koutarou likes to go to sleep._

_This is why, when Mommy is more and more bedridden, more and more often, he is the one to burst into her room with his favourite story; he skids and grabs his favourite plushie and comes back running, climbing on her big bed._

_He is a little puzzled, though: Mommy’s voice has always been delicate, but now it has become definitely low. She does not stop only to make sure Koutarou is listening along, but also to catch her breath, each time more often, even if she wasn’t the one to have run at all._

_When this happens, Koutarou averts his eyes from the vividly colourful pages and looks at Mommy’s face, a little worried. She traces her finger through his hair, moving it away from his forehead and looks back at him with her golden eyes, so similar to Koutarou’s. She smiles and everything is fine. All is well._

_That is until one day Mommy is not in her bedroom anymore. She’s staying at another big, big house, full of people in a strange white coat and loads of rooms. Once he and Dad arrive in Mommy’s, Koutarou approaches that strange bed._

_≪_ _What’s the matter, Mommy?_ _≫_ _he whispers. Dad has told him that in there – Koutarou doesn’t remember how that place is called, something like “spit”, no wait, maybe it was “‘spital”? – people aren’t supposed to run and you have to be quiet._

_Mommy opens her eyes and looks at him, slowly raising her hand to stroke his hair._

_≪_ _Mommy is a little tired, that’s why I have to rest here, in this super-bed_ _≫_ _It actually has a lot of buttons and lights all over, that bed must really be super. But if Mommy has to stay there and sleep..._

_≪_ _You won’t read me the story tonight?_ _≫_ _Koutarou is a little sad._

_How is he supposed to sleep tight tonight?_

_≪_ _No baby, I’m sorry_ _≫_ _Mommy smiles faintly_ _≪_ _But don’t be sad_ _≫_ _she adds_ _≪_ _Do you remember what the little owl says, after chatting with the moon?_ _≫_ _._

_Koutarou sniffs_ _≪_ _He says he’ll remember that his friend Snowy Owl and Barn Owl will always be with him_ _≫_ _he quotes._

_≪_ _And the little owl was sad no more, for he was never alone_ _≫_ _his Mommy smiles and strokes his hair away from his forehead_ _≪_ _You remember that too, Koutarou. You will never be alone_ _≫_ _._

_He thinks about it, his golden eyes wide open. Then he settles “So I will be like the little happy owl, Mommy, he was always cheerful!”. He promises this and stretches his little arms over the super bed; his Mommy laughs weakly and goes on stroking his hair._

_A month later Koutarou clutches his plushie owl to his chest, peeking from behind his father’s legs. Mommy’s golden eyes, just like his own, shine from the framed photograph on the gravestone which bears her name._

_Koutarou looks at his smiling plushie: he promised Mommy he would always be cheerful._

_He feels his father’s hand on his hair and buries his face in his trousers, feeling a little guilty: he can’t keep his promise today, he can’t help but crying._

 

Bokuto dries his hands; his hair now stands fiercer than ever. Kaori is right: it really reminds of an owl’s head.

Hadn’t he promised, after all, he would have been like a given happy bird? 

 

He smiles at himself in the mirror and goes on getting ready for the day. 

*

He spots the child from afar, as he’s walking out of room 207. 

He is alone in the corridor, sitting on one of the chairs opposite the hospital rooms and he is staring at his feet – which do not even touch the floor, he is so small.

Bokuto gets near him, while his hand reaches for the red nose he had put in the bag, after having spent the morning cheering up, even a little, the young patients in the Pediatric Oncology ward.

Hearing his footsteps, the boy looks up: he has warm hazelnut eyes, full of a sadness which does not definitely match his young age.

Koutarou crouches down before him.

≪Hi. My name is Koutarou≫ he says.

≪...Takumi≫ the boy whispers back.

≪How about I read you a story, Takumi? It is about an owl and his friends≫ Bokuto beams with his most encouraging smile, raising a book near his own face.

It looks as if Takumi has become just a little more at ease after seeing the bright colours on the cover. ≪You look a little like the owl≫ he smiles timidly, pointing at the feathery animal on it.

Koutarou laughs wholeheartedly, his head thrown back ≪I sure do, don’t I? ≫ He sits by him and opens the book.

≪This is the story of the little happy owl...≫

**Author's Note:**

> Baby Bokuto is so cute <3  
> I melted multiple times while writing that – I enjoy this image of him grown-up visiting children in the hospital (patients or not) and making them laugh.  
> I had this flashing inspiration of his mom dying when he was little (ç_ç) and one day later the fanfiction was done. Hope I didn’t make a mess!  
> I’d be really grateful for feedbacks! ^^
> 
> Plus, special thanks to Pirats for the translation! Go check her works out :)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirats/pseuds/Pirats


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